


Tipping the Hourglass

by writeratheart007301



Series: Blue and Green and Everything in Between [3]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeratheart007301/pseuds/writeratheart007301
Summary: Natasha struggled to find her voice – and breath – as she gazed into Maria’s eyes.She didn’t know what the woman was doing here, or how she’d even found her. After going nearly two years without so much as a hello, or even a goodbye, before she’d left, Natasha wondered what she could possibly say to the brunette. And really, there was just one thing she could think of.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: Blue and Green and Everything in Between [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856581
Comments: 14
Kudos: 136





	1. Dust and Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the two years between 'Civil War' and 'Infinity War,' when Romanoff is on the run. I've low-key tried to make it somewhat comply with the movies (the details are really a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind, you'll see eventually). 
> 
> Also, even though it's a part of the series, the story can be read as a standalone. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the story and stay safe!

####  **The Widow**

Natasha clutched the box of compact in her hand tightly as she brisk-walked across the busy street, the scorching North African sun beating down on her grimy face.

Flicking it open, Natasha angled the mirror to get a view of the road behind her. She spotted the buff men that had been following her for a while now – pretty much that whole day, really – and saw their heads whipping around to search for her.

Natasha gripped the shawl draped over her head tighter, pulling its wrapped end higher up on the bridge of her nose, ensuring that only her eyes were visible. She breezed past the locals around her, making just enough eye-contact for it to seem natural, but not long enough for anyone to recognise her later.

It was at times like these, when Natasha would be weaving through the throngs of people in dusty bazaars, dressed as a civilian, that she wished she still had access to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s or Stark’s tech. She’d kill to have a photostatic veil right now.

But she was on the run. Had been on the run for more than a year and a half, now. And as a renegade, Natasha couldn’t afford the luxury of fancy gadgets. Literally and figuratively.

She looked back into the mirror and saw one of the men’s gaze zero in on her. The guy instantly gestured towards his partners, his hand raised and the finger pointing towards her, and Natasha snapped the compact shut. She’d been spotted.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

Natasha increased her pace, her eyes focused on the narrow opening to the alley a few yards ahead, and she quickly made a beeline for it once she reached there. It was empty, just like she’d wanted it to be, and Natasha jogged to get to the end. She turned and hid herself behind the corner, waiting for the men to follow her in there.

She’d been hoping to avoid a confrontation. But she had tried to lose their trail for way too long now, and it clearly hadn’t worked. _It’s time to get rid of them for good._

Natasha heard the shuffling of footsteps coming her way, and she quietly unsheathed the dagger from her coat; the only weapon she was carrying. She was fully aware that her pursuers were going to be well prepared, and probably armed with guns.

The thought didn’t faze Natasha even in the slightest. She might be in exile, but she was still the Black Widow.

_Besides, knives are so much more fun._

* * *

The sound of gravel crunching under boots kept getting louder, and Natasha could guess that there were at least 7 of them coming for her.

She cursed under her breath and lowered herself into a crouched position, her calves thrumming with energy like a spring being coiled. This way, the men wouldn’t see her immediately after turning around the corner. And Natasha could use a little element of surprise, given that she was outnumbered.

About 3 seconds later, the men came into view as they turned into the smaller lane where Natasha was. She counted 6 – not 7 – of them, and for once, she was glad for being wrong.

The men took a few steps ahead, oblivious of Natasha, with their backs facing her, their necks darting around as they scanned the area for her. They hadn’t seen her yet, just as she’d predicted. But Natasha knew she had just a second or two before they’d turn around and find her.

Not wasting any time, Natasha swept her leg in a half circle in front of her – she loved the move almost as much as she loved the person that she’d learnt it from – and tripped the man nearest to her. She drove the knife into the guy’s back as he fell, yanking it out right away while she sprung up from her squatted stance.

The men turned around immediately, the shock wearing off among them by now, and Natasha flung the dagger at the next guy who’d started reaching for his gun. She didn’t bother to retrieve this time and quickly launched herself at the third man, whirling him around as her hand curled around his neck. She snapped it in less than half a second before jumping back and surveying her progress.

_Three down, three to go._

Natasha blew away the strand of her now-blonde hair that had gotten in her eye, the scarf over her head coming slightly undone by her flurry of actions.

She observed the remaining attackers carefully; two of the men flanked each of her sides while the third guy stood right in front of her. They were collectively blocking her only route of escape. Not to mention, the muzzles of their guns were all pointing at her.

Natasha raised her hands slowly, feigning a surrender as she held their gaze. They maintained the stalemate for a few excruciatingly long seconds, no one making any move.

And then, in a flash, Natasha tore the scarf off her head and hurled it towards the man on her left, blinding him as it covered his face. She simultaneously ducked as the rest of the guys fired their guns. And as she had hoped, the idiot on her right ended up shooting his own man, the one who’d been scrambling to get the scarf off his face.

Natasha didn’t wait to see his body fall and lunged towards the man in front of her, ramming her shoulder into his gut as she rose, knocking the wind out of him. Almost instantly, she angled herself behind him, using him as a human shield as she was sure the second guy was going to shoot at her again.

Barely milliseconds later, Natasha felt the man in front of her jerk as the silenced bullets hit him, and she gave his body a powerful shove, pushing him onto the only guy left. The collision made them both stumble awkwardly, the gun skittering out of the man’s grip, and Natasha quickly kicked it away, far from his reach.

But the guy extracted himself away from the dead weight far sooner than she’d expected, and slammed his fist against Natasha’s lips. The punch made her stagger back, and Natasha only barely managed to not fall over by the momentum. She straightened herself quickly, wiping the blood off her face before raising her fists in front of her, and sized up the guy.

Natasha could see the fury in his eyes as he flexed his insanely thick muscles. He’d clearly not anticipated her taking out all his men in less than a minute. From his enraged expression, Natasha knew that he was reeling with humiliation. And while that would make him reckless, it would also make him ruthless.

As if to prove that point, Mr Muscles charged at her with an animalistic roar.

Natasha managed to sidestep the right hook, but the guy was fast – and more alert – now that he knew just what Natasha was capable of. He kept pressing forward, crowding Natasha with his towering body as he launched his punches rapidly.

Natasha parried blows – with a lot more difficulty than she’d like to admit – but the guy was relentless. She landed a hit on his shoulder, barely managing to push the man a yard back, but he only looked slightly annoyed. He regrouped instantly and attacked her once again, his boot connecting with Natasha’s midsection as he kicked her hard.

The blow threw Natasha backwards several steps, her back hitting the wall behind her painfully. And the man shot her a wolfish sneer, knowing that he had her cornered at the end of the alley. He simply stood there with a haughty grin on his face, his stance relaxed, as if he’d already won.

_Oh, bad move, buddy. And just for that, you’re going to go down._

Natasha let out a huff before running towards him.

She tucked her shoulders and bent forward as she got closer to him. The man mirrored her posture, bending down to intercept Natasha as he must’ve thought she was going to slide between his legs. But Natasha straightened herself at the last second and leaped forward, the guy’s lowered height making it easy for her to jump onto his shoulder.

She locked her thighs around his neck as he stood up, choking him while she pounded her fists down on his head. The man tried to pull her off him, his hands frantically scratching at Natasha’s jeans, but she only tightened her hold. The struggle was futile, and Natasha felt his body go slack in seconds. She hopped off the guy’s back just as he crumpled to the floor.

Natasha grasped her knees for a few seconds, wheezing while she caught her breath. She straightened herself eventually and nearly doubled over, pain flaring across her ribs, and she realised she’d cracked at least 2 of them.

_Damn, I’m getting rusty._

Natasha saw some of the men stirring on the ground and she briefly considered killing them. But she saw their incapacitated forms, and something inside her made her stop. These guys were just henchmen, merely doing the job they were ordered to do. They weren’t the enemy. And she’d killed enough already.

Natasha sighed, swallowing tiredly as she tried to push down the pain in her side. She simply walked up to the guy she’d flung her knife at and twisted the blade once before pulling it out. Natasha gave the writhing bodies one last glance before hobbling away.

_I hope I don’t regret this._

She slipped the dagger back into her coat as she re-entered the marketplace, melting into the bustling crowd as the civilians haggled with the hawkers. Natasha approached one of the shops and tossed a few notes at the owner before grabbing the nearest dark-coloured scarf and scurrying away.

Natasha draped it back over her head, wrapping the end over her mouth and nose as she walked out of the bazaar. And she soon found herself on a proper road, traffic whizzing past her as she turned and trudged along the footpath.

Natasha had barely walked 10 steps when a car skidded to a stop right beside her.

It looked like every other vehicle on the road, with its dirt-and-sand-caked tires, but Natasha noticed the brand-new car paint on it, the gloss just a tad shinier than what it should have been in this part of the world.

The window of the passenger’s seat was rolled down, and Natasha bent herself to take a look at the driver. And she found a scarf pulled over the figure’s head, just like hers, covering all the features, save for the eyes.

The person was staring ahead at the road, and Natasha couldn’t identify who it was, with the spectacles perched on the figure’s nose, its rim blocking her view of the eyes. Natasha’s mind went into overdrive and she quickly reached into her coat to grab the knife.

And just then, the person turned to look at her, a few stray wisps of brown hair fluttering in the wind, and Natasha froze in her action.

She’d recognise those piercing blue orbs anywhere.

And, after a full 20 months, Natasha once again found herself drowning in the endless depths of her wife’s eyes.

* * *

Natasha struggled to find her voice – and breath – as she gazed into Maria’s eyes.

She didn’t know what the woman was doing here, or how she’d even found her. After going nearly two years without so much as a hello, or even a goodbye, before she’d left, Natasha wondered what she could possibly say to the brunette. And really, there was just one thing she could think of.

Natasha cleared her throat loudly, “Hey there, hot st–”

“Get in the car,” Maria cut her off, her muffled voice still crisp and commanding.

“I don’t take lifts from masked strangers,” Natasha scoffed cockily.

“ _Get in the car,_ Romanoff _,_ ” the brunette all but growled, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Natasha was about to huff out another dismissive retort when her eye caught the movement visible in the car’s side mirror.

About 50 yards behind her, a man – one of the guys from the alley – was staggering towards her, his arm rising shakily as he aimed his gun at Natasha. And Maria didn’t need to repeat herself another time as Natasha wrenched open the door of the passenger’s seat, diving into the car just before the bullet tore off the side mirror.

Maria didn’t even wait for Natasha to close the door and jammed her foot down the accelerator, veering the car away from the sidewalk. Natasha could see the chaos ensuing on the street while the man kept firing, and she bit back curses.

_Should have fucking killed them._

They quickly reached a turn on the road and the brunette promptly swerved the car as they raced out of there. Natasha let herself breath only once the sound of the shots faded into the evening, the familiar – and _comforting,_ at this point _–_ noise of the Moroccan street-life taking over.

* * *

They weaved further into the city before Maria finally slowed down the car to a stop.

The brunette was gripping the steering wheel tightly, her head bowed down as she steadied her pulse. And Natasha racked her brain for something to say. But she gave up soon enough, unable to come up with anything particularly witty.

“The glasses look cute,” Natasha said eventually, her voice cutting through the silence.

Maria’s head snapped towards her, the sudden action making the scarf slide off from her head, and Natasha could finally see her full face.

The taller woman’s hair was a bit longer than Natasha recalled, and she’d pulled it into a ponytail. She’d gotten thinner and bonier; Natasha could make out from the brunette’s sunken cheeks and the taut skin over her jawline. But her blue orbs were still sharp and shimmering, just like Natasha remembered.

It was the most beautiful sight she had seen.

The woman was straight-up glowering at her, though; a tempest swirling in her eyes. Almost as if she was deciding just which barb to throw at Natasha. And Natasha knew she pretty much deserved it; for both, abandoning her all those months ago and for the mess she’d dragged her into right now.

But before Maria could say anything, Natasha’s stomach let out an embarrassingly loud grumble. She’d been on her feet pretty much for the whole day, and she hadn’t found the time to eat anything, and the hunger was finally getting to her.

Natasha shot Maria a small, awkward smile, and the brunette dropped her gaze. The taller woman shook her head a couple of times before reaching for the gloves compartment and pulling out a paper bag. She checked the contents once and then thrust it in Natasha’s direction.

Natasha eyed the food greedily for a while, mentally reminding herself to be civilised as she ate it. She pulled down her scarf after a bit, her mouth practically salivating by then. Her resolve flew right out the window when she took the first bite, and Natasha attacked the food savagely, literally inhaling it without even bothering to chew properly.

She looked up eventually, licking the last remains of the sauce off her fingers, and found Maria observing her intently. The brunette’s eyes were unbelievably soft, and Natasha couldn’t fathom what was going on in Maria’s mind.

Natasha was suddenly hit by the nostalgia of their moments together, when that expression would instantly spur her to kiss the woman senseless. But she looked away right now, burning under the intensity in Maria’s sapphires.

Her eyes fell on the now-empty wrappers of the food and Natasha looked back up at the brunette, “I’m sorry, was I supposed to share?”

Maria’s gaze softened even more, if that was possible, and she opened her mouth to reply. But she was interrupted yet again.

Except this time, it was by the deafening sound of gunfire.

* * *

Maria’s head whipped towards the window on her side – the source of the shots, Natasha realised – and shards exploded all around them as the bullets hit glass. They quickly spotted the jeep barrelling towards them, and Maria promptly revved up the engine.

Their car was much faster than it looked, Natasha figured as they sped away from their pursuers, but even that semblance of relief fizzled out when she glanced at the rear-view mirror. Yet another jeep had joined the first one, the semi-automatics sticking out of the window as their owners kept firing.

Natasha quickly turned to look at the brunette, “Do you have any –”

“In the back seat,” Maria supplied, her voice clipped and urgent as she concentrated on dodging the evening traffic ahead.

Natasha turned around and saw the large duffel bag, an assortment of weapons peeking from the half-open zipper.

“ _God, I love you,_ ” Natasha breathed as she quickly scrambled over the gear stick to get herself onto the back seat, her hands already reaching out to grab a carbine.

She found a Glock right next to it – Maria’s favourite handgun – and tossed it on top of the glove compartment, in case the brunette wanted to be armed as well. Natasha checked her own weapon and then rolled down the already-partially shattered window of the back seat.

“Don’t slow down the car,” Natasha ordered, gripping the carbine tightly.

Maria scoffed audibly, her eyes fixed ahead on the road, “Don’t die.”

And Natasha grinned even though the brunette couldn’t see it. As if the woman sensed that, Maria’s gaze flew to the rear-view mirror for just a few milliseconds, and she flashed her a grim smile.

Natasha gave her a quick nod before angling her upper body out of the window, her finger automatically pressing the trigger of the gun the second she was in position.

A couple more jeeps had joined the chase by now, and Natasha’s bullets bounced off them harmlessly as she swept the carbine to cover the expanse of all their pursuers. She realised immediately that their vehicles were obviously combat grade.

_Of. Fucking. Course._

Natasha quickly changed her strategy, aiming the carbine much lower as she fired. It took much longer than she’d prefer, but the bullets managed to puncture the tires of one of the jeeps. As soon as the jeep skidded, she raised her weapon and fired at the bodies poking out of the window.

The strategy had worked, but Natasha knew it was far too slow to take down the rest of the jeeps. And their own car _wasn’t_ bulletproof. She quickly slid back into the car and rummaged through duffel bag. She let herself smile just a little when her hand reached what she was searching for.

Natasha noticed their car speed up even more, and she figured the jeeps had probably started closing in on them. And in the next 4 seconds, Natasha had adjusted her stance as she balanced herself out of the window once again and fired the bazooka flawlessly at the nearest jeep.

The vehicle was far too close to their own car as it burst into a ball of flames, and Natasha instinctively turned her face away, bracing herself for the blast of heat. But Maria veered the car away just in time, and the explosion only managed to singe the tips of Natasha’s hair, the coat protecting her body.

Natasha’s posture lurched as their car turned, but she gripped the bazooka tightly and took her aim once again. The gunfire was still going on and the bullets hissed dangerously close to her, one of them grazing her neck, but Natasha barely faltered as she gunned down the jeeps one by one.

She stayed in her position for some time, watching their blazing remains with satisfaction. Her hair whipped against her face in the wind as her gaze darted around to check for more threats. Only once she was fully convinced that no one was coming for them did Natasha finally lower herself back into the car, sagging into the seat tiredly.

Their car was nearly a wreck, and it was a sheer miracle that it was still working. Maria was still driving at breakneck speeds, the city flying past them in an almost nauseating blur. But Natasha couldn’t bring herself to protest, at that point.

She was so fucking _done_ with the day. And all she cared about was the fact that she and Maria were alive.

* * *

The car finally gave out just when they’d left the city, the faint outlines of the sand dunes visible in the distance, despite the darkness of the night.

Fortunately, Maria had driven in the right direction, and they’d stopped just a mile or so away from the small town where Natasha had secured a safe house. It was the only stroke of good luck in that whole day, really, and Natasha let out an exhausted sigh.

She got out of the car, just as Maria exited it, both standing on either sides of the vehicle as they steadied themselves. Their bodies swayed just a bit, the last vestiges of adrenaline starting to drain away.

“So, tell me, Hill,” Natasha said eventually, still a little breathless from the ordeal, “Do you normally go around picking up random blonde chicks off the road?”

Maria let out a strangled laugh, “Nope,” she said, not facing Natasha, “Blondes ain’t my type.”

The taller woman’s body was angled away, but Natasha could see the crack in Maria’s glasses as she tilted her head just a bit to glance at Natasha.

“I’m more into redheads, actually,” the brunette added, a small, lopsided grin visible on her face, “Particularly the one who happens to be my wife.”

The quip would have had its desired effect, but Maria’s voice was strained in a way that clearly indicated that she was in pain. It was further confirmed when the brunette’s right hand reached up to clutch her left arm.

Natasha swiftly moved to the other side of the car, alarms going off in her mind, and her breath caught when she saw the single hole in Maria’s tunic, on her shoulder, along the collar bone.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she whispered, “You’re hit.”

Natasha figured it must have happened when the gunfire had first started, from Maria’s side of the car. The guilt was instantaneous as she tugged at the woman’s shirt to get a better look at the wound. The blood was gushing out of it rather slowly, and Natasha guessed that the bullet must be lodged in the bone.

She quickly reached into the window to grab the scarf strewn across the seat. She balled it up and pressed it against Maria’s wound. And the brunette flinched inadvertently, her good hand flying out to grip the top of the car as she braced herself.

Natasha drilled her gaze into her wife’s eyes: _it’s barely been a few hours since you’ve met me, and you’ve already gotten yourself shot._

The taller woman glared right back, the bone in her jaw twitching furiously: _I’m not the one getting us into trouble._

Natasha looked away sharply, the accusation slicing through her heart. She saw the smoke coming from the hood of their car and she knew the thing was as good as dead. She faced the brunette once again, a growl of frustration threatening to escape her lips.

“I have a safe house about a mile away from here,” Natasha muttered, her tone apologetic as she saw the pain etched across Maria’s features, “Can you walk?”

She scoffed inwardly the moment she asked the question. _As if we have a choice._ The taller woman nodded wordlessly and stepped out of Natasha’s hold, her own hand replacing Natasha’s on the scarf as she applied pressure on her wound.

“Grab the bag, would you?” Maria murmured, jutting her chin towards the back seats of their car.

Natasha reached into the car and zipped the duffel bag close, while Maria snagged the Glock from over the glove compartment and stuffed it into the waistband of her jeans. And Natasha’s heart surged with pride for her wife.

She pulled the bag out of the seat and slung it over her shoulder, ignoring the pain exploding in her ribs because of the added weight. Natasha tried to smother the wince, but Maria noticed it and levelled her with a withering scowl, her gaze flitting down to Natasha’s midsection.

The staring match ended with both of them huffing audibly.

They gave each other a grim nod before beginning the hike; Natasha flanking Maria’s uninjured side. The taller woman’s eyes were fixed ahead on the dusty path as they staggered forward, and Natasha prepared herself for the brunette’s icy demeanour throughout the journey.

But she was proven wrong when her fingers brushed lightly against Maria’s and the taller woman took Natasha’s hand into her own, her grip firm if still shaky.

* * *

Their walk ended about a _year_ later, both of them utterly exhausted as they finally entered the small street in the town. 

They hadn’t come across a single car as they’d walked across the sandy road in the outskirts, so asking for a lift had been out of the question. On the other hand, Natasha was glad that no one had spotted them as they made their way to the town. She couldn’t fend off another attack right now.

They neared the safe house – the last one among the shacks lining the road – at the end of the lane, and Maria scoffed beside her. And Natasha knew exactly why. The safe house wasn’t so much _safe_ as it was _there._ And it wasn’t so much a house as a cottage.

Then again, they’d had to live in worse places.

Natasha glanced at the brunette and gave her a weak shrug, and Maria merely nodded reassuringly. The woman hadn’t let out a single sound of distress this whole time, but one look at her face, and Natasha could see she was struggling to stay standing.

Natasha cursed under her breath when she fumbled with the door, her hands shaking with fatigue. She finally pushed it open and both of them shuffled in. Natasha dumped the duffel bag at the entrance rather unceremoniously as she bolted the door shut. She’d move the damn thing later.

Natasha turned around just in time to see Maria stumble and all but collapse onto one of the two chairs in the hall. The brunette managed to toe off her boots before her head fell back against the top rail of the chair, her chest heaving as she breathed deeply.

The interior of the house was meagre as hell – with bare minimum furniture in the rooms – but Natasha had made sure that it was stocked with the basic amenities. And she quickly got to work, whipping out her knife as she went into the kitchen. She cleaned it properly under the tap before turning on the stove to heat it up.

Natasha approached the brunette once the blade was hot enough. She pried the scarf away and cut apart Maria’s shirt to access the wound better. Her heart clenched at the sight of the bullet wedged in the brunette’s shoulder, the blood staining the woman’s entire arm.

Natasha rubbed her knuckles over her wife’s cheek as she brought the knife closer, “Sorry, this is going to burn.”

Maria’s good hand reached out, her thumb trembling as she reverently traced the gash on Natasha’s neck, right where the bullet had grazed her. The brunette raised her arm a little higher and ran her fingers through the singed ends of Natasha’s short hair before letting the hand drop down.

Maria’s gaze returned to Natasha’s face, and she replied without a blink, “I’m already burnt.”

The brunette barely flinched as the tip of the dagger touched the marred skin. Maria simply clenched her jaw throughout the procedure, her eyes fixed on Natasha’s face as she extracted the bullet and then pressed the heated blade around the wound to get rid of any infection.

Natasha dropped the knife to the floor before going into the kitchen once again, returning with a small bucket of water and a washcloth. She dragged the second chair closer to Maria’s and set the stuff aside as she gazed at the woman; minute scrapes on her temple because of the shards from their car’s cracked windows.

Natasha gently plucked the brunette’s spectacles off the bridge of her nose before bringing the washcloth up, wiping the dust and grime off her wife’s face as she held her by her chin. And Maria melted right into Natasha’s touch, her eyes closing and her features going slack with relief. Almost as if she’d been craving it all this time. All these _months._

Natasha proceeded to clean off the blood and dirt caking Maria’s exposed torso, and she noticed that the brunette was nearly asleep by the end of it. She gave Maria’s good arm a light nudge and her eyes cracked open just a bit.

“Come on,” Natasha whispered, “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“You trying to get me into your bed?” her wife teased weakly, “Mind you, Goldilocks, I’m married.”

Natasha smiled despite herself and hauled Maria up slowly, slinging the taller woman’s good arm over her shoulder as they hobbled further into the house. She lowered the brunette onto the barely-queen-sized bed, brushing her lips across her wife’s forehead once she’d adjusted her position.

Natasha draped the blanket over Maria, and she was about to pull away when Maria suddenly grabbed her hand. Her grip was weak, but also desperate, the fingers lightly clawing at Natasha’s wrist. She could read the panic in the blue eyes, and she rushed forward to cup Maria’s cheek.

“I’m just going to go shower,” Natasha soothed her, rubbing her thumb over her wife’s jaw, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Maria nodded deliriously, “Just… don’t leave,” she mumbled, “ _Please._ ”

The brunette’s eyes stayed open just long enough for her to see the watery smile on Natasha’s lips, and the soft snores soon took over the silence.

Natasha had wanted to kiss her so badly, but she’d held herself back. She simply bent forward and shifted her wife’s bangs away as she gazed at her fondly, drinking her in.

_When I do kiss you, it won’t be when you’re pleading before me. You were born to command._

* * *

Natasha didn’t bother to get herself dressed as she stumbled out of the shower, the fatigue threatening to make her knees buckle.

She somehow made it to the bed and crawled under the covers, snuggling close to Maria’s uninjured side. Natasha knew it probably wasn’t a wise idea, given that they both were wounded. But she needed the proximity. Needed the pure _relief_ that the brunette’s mere presence gave her.

The mattress was hard and lumpy, the blanket was barely sufficient for a single person, and the distant sound of stray dogs howling was irritating enough to make one cringe. But Natasha still smiled to herself contentedly as her eyes fluttered close and she inched nearer towards oblivion.

She was sure it was going to the best night’s sleep she’d had in months. Because after wandering for so long, she’d finally found her place, beside her wife.

Right there, in that dingy shack on the dry, desert night, Natasha was home.


	2. Yet Another Sandstorm

####  **The Soldier**

Maria woke up the next morning feeling like Thor himself had used her body as a punching bag.

She barely stifled the groan as she got up using her good arm and rested her back against the wall, the simple action making her pant for breath. The house was small enough for Maria to hear Natasha moving about somewhere outside the bedroom, and she let herself relax.

She saw the rays of sun entering through the grilled window, the paper-thin curtains doing bare minimum to block out the light, and she realised it was already afternoon. Her gaze swept across the bed, and Maria noticed the small stack of clothes near the other edge, a long rectangular box – wrapped in a cute ribbon – resting on top of it.

Maria got off the bed gingerly and walked towards the pile, her hand reaching for the box. She opened it and found a pair of spectacles – the frame similar to the one that had gotten broken yesterday, but much chicer – staring back at her.

Maria took out the crumpled piece of paper stuffed in the between the lenses, unfolding it rather impatiently. She immediately recognised her wife’s handwriting as she read the messily scrawled words:

_These babies will give you a lot more  
specs-appeal than the earlier geek goggles._

_\- Goldilocks_

And Maria found herself laughing outright, despite the incredibly _lame_ pun. She’d hardly laughed this much in all these past months combined. But less than 24 hours with the witty Russian, and the smile was back on Maria’s face.

She sighed as she placed the box back onto the bed and grabbed the clothes. She didn’t need to check them; she knew they would be exactly her size. Shaking her head fondly, Maria walked towards the washroom as quickly as her body allowed.

Showering was an ordeal on its own, and Maria barely kept herself upright the whole time. And even though she had mastered the one-hand-bra-wearing game, she struggled to hook the damn thing in place. It was many muted groans later that Maria finally managed to get herself dressed.

Once she was done, she reached for the box once again, slipping the ribbon into the pocket of her pants as she grabbed the new spectacles. Pushing them up the bridge of her nose, Maria trudged out of the bedroom, following the sounds from the kitchen.

And her gaze found Natasha instantly. The now-blonde woman had her back towards Maria, and she was craning her neck as she tried to look for something in one of the higher cabinets. And Maria just had to stop her before she did something stupid; like jumping to reach the height.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Maria called out to her wife.

And, as expected, the shorter woman froze in her movements, her shoulders tensing as she heard Maria’s voice. Her posture sagged soon enough, and the Russian turned around to face Maria, leaning casually against the counter behind her.

And Maria started walking towards her, her stride purposeful if still slow. The shorter woman tilted her head up just as Maria reached her, and their gazes locked together. Maria _had_ gotten the chance to look at Natasha yesterday, but she still took her time to observe her wife right now, when her pulse _wasn’t_ thundering in her ears.

Apart from the blonde locks – that didn’t make her look any less gorgeous – Natasha hadn’t changed too much outwardly. But Maria could see the strain in the woman’s features, her usually animated emeralds a lot dimmer and more guarded. She looked like she’d aged a whole decade in that year-and-a-half.

And Maria realised that living while constantly looking over the shoulder would end up doing that.

Her eyes fell on the bruises marking Natasha’s face and neck, the new scars on her chest peeking from the loose shirt she was wearing, and Maria felt a twinge in her heart, wondering what kind of a life the woman had been living all these months.

She looked back at Natasha’s face and saw the blonde smirking at her, “The glasses _do_ look cute.”

“Care to explain how you arranged for them?” Maria replied, “We’re practically in the middle of the desert.”

Natasha cocked up an eyebrow haughtily, “Three words, Hill: beg, borrow, steal.”

Maria found herself going silent at the answer. She couldn’t decide whether it was a euphemism. She swallowed forcefully to get rid of the sudden tightness in her throat.

“What do you need from up there?” Maria said eventually, her gaze darting towards the cabinets above them.

“I can get it myself,” Natasha replied instantly, looking away.

The blonde tried to turn back around, but Maria caught her arm with her good hand, “Let me help you.”

She was surprised at the desperation in her own voice, and Natasha’s gaze softened at the implied plea in the words. She shuffled aside, allowing Maria to take her place.

“Tea leaves,” Natasha mumbled, “And sugar. The boxes should be right beside each other.”

Maria followed her wife’s finger as she guided her towards the stuff. She placed the boxes on the counter, beside the other food items Natasha had gathered – probably when she’d gone out to get their clothes and other supplies – for their little brunch.

“You’re making us tea?” Maria said, her voice lined with mirth, “I thought I’ll be getting just porridge.”

And just as she’d predicted, Natasha narrowed her eyes in faux threat, and Maria was reminded of the countless times her wife had donned that adorable expression.

“Okay, I know I humoured you myself,” the blonde began, rolling her eyes exasperatedly, “But this whole Goldilocks-thing has got to stop. I mean, if you called me Rapunzel, it would at least be a _little_ dignified.”

“The naïve princess who managed to stay locked up in a tower for 18 years?” Maria scoffed, “Nah, you can’t even get yourself to stay in the same _country_ for _six months_.”

“Gotta spread my awesomeness across the globe, Hill,” Natasha retorted, shrugging flippantly as she parried the jab.

“Right, of course,” Maria quipped back, “Besides, I think ‘Goldilocks’ would make a rather great name for your new cover the next time you run.”

This time, the barb hung heavily in the air, and both of them fell quiet. Maria hadn’t really intended to have this conversation so soon, and she’d really just rolled with the banter. But she figured now’s as good a time as any.

Natasha sighed finally, “Look, I know you want answers, but can it wait?” she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

And despite everything, Maria found herself smiling fondly. She nodded at the woman, and Natasha briskly got to brewing the tea. Maria went ahead to set up the dishes on the flimsy table in the kitchen, waiting for the blonde to bring the food.

She’d waited for nearly two years. She could wait for a few more minutes.

* * *

“Okay, ask away.”

Natasha’s posture was rather stiff as she said the words.

They’d shifted out of the kitchen after eating, and they were sitting face-to-face on the two chairs in the hall. Maria could see the clench in the blonde’s jaw, and she willed her features to soften.

“This is not an interrogation, Natasha,” she said gently.

The shorter woman’s eyes instantly shut close, relief briefly crossing her face, and Maria realised that it was the first time she’d called her wife by her first name in all this while.

She waited for Natasha to open her eyes before speaking again, “I’m sure you have your own set of questions, and you can –”

“You go first,” Natasha cut her off, her voice tight but her features relaxed, “It’s only fair that way.”

Maria sighed before nodding and leaning back into her chair. The blonde mirrored her movement, her green orbs tensing as she braced herself for the volley of questions.

“Okay, first question,” Maria began, her eyes locked with her wife’s, “How are you?”

It was the most important one, really. And Maria looked intently at the blonde, hoping that she would read the real question: _how have you been, all these months._

Natasha was gaping at her, almost as if she couldn’t believe that she’d heard it right. But Maria gazed at her patiently, imploring her to let down her guard, probably for the first time since she’d been on the run.

The blonde’s whole posture sagged eventually, and her eyes glazed over as she looked down at her own lap, examining her fingers for a bit.

“I…” Natasha started, “I’ve been better.”

“I did some work with Rogers and Wilson occasionally,” the blonde informed, “But for the most part, I’ve been on my own.”

“And I, uh… I’d forgotten what it was to fight alone,” Natasha murmured, “Forgotten what it was like to not have anyone watching my back.”

Her voice was agonisingly small, and Maria’s breath nearly caught in her throat. But then Natasha looked back up, a wry smile on her face, and Maria knew she was going to cover it up.

“I guess, I’ve gotten spoilt,” Natasha laughed humourlessly, “By S.H.I.E.L.D., by the Avengers.”

“By _you_ ,” the blonde added, her voice just above a whisper.

“Then why did you run?” Maria replied instantly, the words tumbling out of her mouth, “You didn’t have to. We could’ve figured out some way. Could’ve done this together.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Natasha scoffed indignantly, “But I don’t exactly regret leaving.”

The shorter woman’s eyes were drilling into Maria’s shoulder, right where the shirt was hiding her bullet wound. And Maria felt a growl rising in her throat.

“I was an agent too, Natasha,” she began, her voice low and menacing, “Not nearly as skilled as you are, but a good agent, nevertheless. I don’t need you to protect me.”

Natasha’s gaze flew up to meet hers, and Maria was only a little surprised when she didn’t find the expected vehemence in her eyes.

“But you already know that,” Maria stated, “So tell me, really, why did you leave?”

The blonde stared at her for a while before she exhaled audibly, the fight beginning to drain out of her. She ducked her head once again, and Maria had the urge to reach out and tip her chin upwards.

But she didn’t, and balled her hand against her thigh instead. She was done running after Natasha.

_This time, you will come to me._

“I couldn’t let you come with me,” Natasha eventually spoke, “I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’ve forever had to sort out messes that weren’t even caused by you,” the blonde went on, finally looking up, “You’re still doing it, and I know you’ll keep doing it.”

“You’ve always strived to do the right thing,” Natasha said, “And you don’t get nearly as much credit as you’re worthy of.”

“And the way I’ve been living all this time…” the Russian mumbled, shaking her head, “I just couldn’t force you into that life,” she whispered, “The life of a fugitive. Of a _criminal._ ”

“You deserve to live with your head held high, Maria,” Natasha breathed, her green orbs glistening with devotion, “I couldn’t let you bear the punishment of my sins.”

Maria found herself at a complete loss for words. She was beyond touched by her wife’s sheer admiration for her. And at the same time, she was enraged at the woman for thinking that _she_ deserved to be punished.

Natasha might’ve made mistakes, but she’d more than made up for them. By saving the world a billion times over.

But that conversation was for another time.

Maria sighed shakily, “You didn’t think of _talking to me_ about all this before leaving?”

“We’re _married_ , Natasha,” Maria whispered, “I thought that kind of a relationship at least warranted for a farewell.”

That had been the most painful part. The fact that _her wife_ had just decided to up and leave, without so much as a goodbye.

Natasha’s shoulders sagged yet again, “I wouldn’t have been able to go if I’d spoken to you,” she said, “You’d have either made me stay or come after me.”

“That’s utter bullshit, and you know it,” Maria snapped, “I’m not so petty as to emotionally blackmail you that way. I would have understood.”

And Maria had _always_ understood _._ She’d understood _everyone._

She’d understood when Natasha had to seduce sleazy mobsters during her undercover ops. Understood when they had to keep their relationship a secret from the world. Understood when Fury had made her hide the truth about his “death” from Natasha. Understood when the Director had suggested the affair between Natasha and Banner, because he’d thought it was the sure way of making the Hulk stay with the team.

At times, Maria felt that in this world of superheroes and senates and councilmen, understanding was really the _only_ thing she could do. All the influence and authority she’d exercised was just an illusion; she was a mere pawn, with bare minimum power of her own.

Maria growled frustratedly, “I would never have chased you, if you’d told me not to.”

Natasha’s lips twitched with defiance, “A little hypocritical of you to say that, considering that you’re _here_ right now.”

“How _did_ you find me, anyway?” the blonde asked, her rough tone lined with genuine curiosity.

Maria really wished she could get herself to look smug as she glared at the woman. But all she managed was a rather pathetic scowl. She crossed her legs and placed her good hand on the armrest, affecting as much confidence into her posture as she could.

“You accessed the bank account registered to Natalie Rushman,” Maria answered.

“Not the public one,” Maria clarified almost immediately, “The offshore account that just a handful of us back at S.H.I.E.L.D. had known about.”

The panic was instantaneous on Natasha’s face, and Maria rushed to add, “You’d been exceptionally discreet about it, so you don’t have to worry about anyone else finding out.”

“I was surprised that the account was even operational,” Natasha said after a bit, “How has it not been frozen after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“I kept the account active,” Maria replied, “I’ve been making regular payments into it over the years. Fury’s the only one who knows about it, besides me.”

“I’d started depositing larger amounts into it after you left,” Maria went on, “And I’ve had my eye on the account all this time.”

“I wasn’t sure you would ever revert to that money,” Maria said, “But I could guess that you’re little _beg-borrow-steal_ routine – as you so eloquently put it – would eventually stop working.”

Natasha gawked at her for a while, and Maria waited for her reply, letting the information sink in.

“You’re right,” the blonde said eventually, “I did need the cash. It was a shot in the dark, really; trying that account. I remember thinking that I’d gotten lucky.”

“But I withdrew the money almost _5 months_ ago,” Natasha added, “Have you been tracking my location ever since then?”

Maria flinched at the question, the insinuation in the words making her shut her eyes. But when she opened them, she saw that the shorter woman’s gaze wasn’t accusatory at all.

“I wasn’t _tracking_ your location,” Maria sighed, “You aren’t some wanted felon for me to do that.”

“I was just… _checking_ every now and then,” Maria muttered, “Making sure the dot was still blinking.”

“But why didn’t you come find me immediately?” Natasha asked.

“ _You left,_ Natasha,” Maria answered gruffly, “It was very clear that you _didn’t_ _want_ to be found.”

“And as much as I hated it, I couldn’t – I _wouldn’t_ – do something against your will,” Maria added, her voice bitter, “You didn’t want me to come with you, so I wouldn’t.”

“You might not have thought so, when you ran,” Maria said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “But I really would have understood, if you’d just spoken to me.”

Natasha simply stared at her once more, her expression filled with awe and guilt. Maria could see that the woman was struggling with her thoughts and emotions, but she didn’t reach out to comfort her. Natasha needed to know. She needed to know just how wrong she’d been to leave _like that_ ; leaving Maria dangling, with no explanation whatsoever _._

“That’s where the issue is, Maria,” Natasha finally said, her shoulders sagging tiredly, “I _did_ want you to come with me. _Of course,_ it would’ve been so much simpler with you.”

“And I know you would have probably agreed to join me,” the blonde added, her voice almost strangled, “But I couldn’t let you throw away your life like that, for me.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” Maria barked instantly, “You didn’t even give me the choice!”

Maria’s chest was heaving by now, the months of hurt finally flaring up, “Can’t you see, that when you went, you left me with absolutely _nothing!”_

Her words hit Natasha like daggers and the blonde instantly screwed her eyes shut, pain ravaging her features. She opened them a lifetime later, and Maria was struck by the anguish in those green orbs. She stood up from her seat and turned around, unable to bear the remorse on Natasha’s face anymore.

Maria proceeded to walk away, out of the house, to just… get some air. The whole morning – and the past day – was almost too much for her, and she needed to clear her head.

She’d made it till the door, when Natasha’s quiet voice made her halt in her steps, “Why now?”

Maria turned around to face her and found the blonde’s gaze glued to the floor. And Maria drilled her eyes into the woman, willing her to look up.

But Natasha didn’t meet her gaze as she spoke again, “Why did you come here right now?”

“I came because of your latest cover name,” Maria answered, and the woman finally looked up, the realisation somewhat dawning upon her.

“All your earlier fake identities followed the pattern,” Maria explained, “Natalie Rushman, Nikita Radoslav, Nicole Rider...”

“But then, the name _Natalyn Hall_ popped up…” Maria said, her own eyes dropping to the floor, “And I… I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a message. A cry for help.”

“And if it was, then I just had to answer it,” Maria exhaled, “I would’ve regretted it all my life if I did nothing, knowing that you were in trouble.”

“I had to know,” Maria whispered, “I had to know that you were okay.”

Maria slipped her hand into her pocket, clutching the ribbon she’d kept in there tightly, as if to draw strength from it.

She hung her head defeatedly, “But you’re asking me why I’m here, so you obviously _weren’t_ trying to reach out to me. So, I guess, I’m just going to –”

The sound of the bedroom door slamming shut made Maria fall silent.

And she felt that stab of rejection once more. Natasha had walked out on her, yet again. Maria clenched her jaw fiercely; the urge to bolt gnawing at her from the inside. She was about to whirl around and leave when she saw it.

The sliver of an opening at the entrance of the bedroom.

Natasha hadn’t locked the door.

And this time, the invitation was clear.

* * *

Maria took a few calming breaths and then walked into the bedroom.

She pushed the door open slowly and found herself staring at Natasha’s back. The blonde was standing just a few steps in front of her, her gaze fixed on the duffel bag filled with weapons. The Russian’s features where relaxed, and Maria knew that she had noticed her presence.

She placed a hand on Natasha’s shoulder tentatively, and the woman turned around to face her. And Maria nearly staggered backwards seeing the sheer desolation etched across her wife’s face.

“I didn’t even call out to you,” Natasha whispered, lowering her head, “And yet, you’re here, helping me.”

Maria sighed for the nth time that day. _Damned woman._ Didn’t she get it?

“I’m your _wife_ , Natasha,” Maria replied, “Sharing your problems is part of the job description.”

_I’ll be there whenever you need me. Wherever you need me. Even if it isn’t with you._

“And if you don’t want to, that’s fine as well,” Maria continued, “I understand your need to shield. To protect. I’ve always loved how fiercely driven you are to keep what’s yours safe.”

“But you’ve at least got to _talk_ to me, _please,_ ” Maria said, her voice hitching, “You can’t leave me hanging like that, with nothing to hold on to.”

“Because that…” Maria exhaled, “That’s what will kill me. _Not knowing._ ”

Natasha kept her head bowed, but Maria could see the single tear trickling down her cheek. And this time, she couldn’t resist it. She bent forward and placed a delicate kiss on her wife’s forehead, lingering for a while, savouring the moment of contact for the future.

Maria stepped away and turned around to leave, but Natasha’s hand reached out to grab hers.

_Finally._

The dejection on the blonde’s face was almost painful to watch, but Maria waited for her to speak. Waited for her to _speak,_ goddammit.

“Can you ki…” Natasha eventually croaked, “Can I –”

“ _Yes._ ”

Maria didn’t even know what Natasha wanted. But it didn’t matter. It _never_ mattered. She’d always let Natasha take whatever she needed. Always –

Natasha rushed forward and pressed her lips against Maria’s, and it was all Maria could do to not cry in relief.

They devoured each other with abject desperation; the months of waiting finally manifesting itself in their fervour. Natasha’s lips quivered heartbreakingly against hers, and Maria could taste her tears as she pushed her tongue further into her wife’s mouth.

Natasha came even closer, their bodies flush together, and Maria instantly draped her good arm around the shorter woman’s waist, holding her in place. The nostalgia was strong and piercing, threatening to make her knees buckle, but Maria somehow managed to stay standing as they kissed.

They broke apart, an eternity later, and Natasha’s face still had a pained look, “You thought I’d abandoned you, didn’t you?”

“No, Nat, I didn’t,” Maria breathed, “I knew you were eventually going to return.”

“Some crisis would show up, and the world would come grovelling at the Black Widow’s feet,” Maria whispered, “And you’d be there to save us all, like you always have.”

The shorter woman was looking back at her with utter disbelief, and Maria just had to kiss her again. She absolutely hated that expression. It broke her heart when the incredible woman couldn’t see her own value.

“That life of dignity and honour that you spoke about,” Maria hummed against Natasha’s lips, “You’re just as worthy of it, if not _more._ ”

“You might be paying for the mistakes of your past,” Maria said, pulling back to hold the Russian’s gaze, “But you’re still a hero.”

A whimper escaped Natasha’s lips and she lunged at Maria once again. The force made them stumble backwards, and Maria winced as her back hit the wall behind her. But she kept kissing Natasha breathlessly, her fingers digging into the woman’s hips.

Natasha moaned into her mouth, the sound silky and husky at the same time – exactly as she remembered it – and Maria suddenly felt desire slice through her, like liquid fire coursing through her whole body.

She flipped them around, pressing the shorter woman against the wall as she sank to her knees. Maria’s fingers shook as she clawed at the button on Natasha’s pants, fumbling at the simple task of undoing it. She growled under her breath as she struggled to shimmy the pants down with just one hand.

Natasha was already wet, and the sight was enough to drive Maria crazy. But she paused and looked up at her wife, making sure she was okay with this. And amidst the passion swirling in Natasha’s darkened eyes, Maria could see the veneration. The longing. The _love._

It was all the permission Maria needed before she hooked her thumb at the edge of Natasha’s underwear, yanking it down as she plunged her tongue down the familiar curves. Her strokes were hard and fast, and she could feel the Russian’s legs trembling while she gasped in pleasure.

Maria gripped the blonde’s waist with her good hand, holding her quaking form upright as she continued her ministrations. But Natasha’s moans kept getting louder, and Maria soon brought the hand down. She replaced her tongue with her thumb, rubbing languid circles while she slipped a finger into the woman.

Natasha all but shivered at the move, and Maria set the rhythm, nice and slow. But the woman rolled her hips into Maria’s fingers, and Maria let out a throaty chuckle at her wife’s impatience before adding another finger. She increased the pace, watching with carnal delight as Natasha’s pupils dilated even more, the irises disappearing almost entirely before she eventually closed her eyes.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to come completely undone around Maria’s hand, and Maria promptly slowed her thrusts, guiding her wife through the aftershocks of her climax. She tried to raise her wounded hand to hold the blonde in place, but the action was too painful, and the arm fell uselessly beside her.

And Natasha hadn’t even fully steadied herself before her hands reached for Maria’s collar, grabbing it as she pulled her into a standing position.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Natasha growled, her voice delectably deep, “Don’t kneel before me.”

Maria smirked at the blonde, taking in her hooded eyes and still-swollen lips, “You telling me you didn’t like what I did to you?”

The woman’s chest was still heaving, even as she grinned back wickedly, “Oh, I _loved_ it,” she replied, “But not _nearly_ as much as I’m going to love what I do to _you_.”

With that, Natasha began walking ahead, her hands still on Maria’s collar, pushing her backwards. Maria kept her eyes locked with Natasha’s, even though she couldn’t see where the blonde was leading them. The pools of desire in her wife’s eyes grew with each step, and Maria could feel the heat settling low in her own body.

They soon reached the bed, and Natasha gave Maria a light push, making her lie down as she climbed on top of her, kissing her exposed collar bone. The blonde’s hand snaked down to reach for the button on Maria pants, but Maria held her hand.

“Will you…” Maria said, panting for breath as the woman continued to pepper kisses along her neck, “Can you take off your shirt?”

Natasha pulled back to look at her, and Maria gazed back intently: _I need to see._

The blonde’s eyes softened, and she gave her a small smile. Natasha pulled her shirt over her head, and Maria’s breath caught audibly. There were far too many fresh scars on the woman’s body, the marks standing out against the pale skin, and Maria felt the prickle of tears at the back of her eyes.

Her hand inched out on its own accord, her thumb tracing a bruise across the woman’s rib. But Natasha hooked a finger under Maria’s chin, tipping her head upwards, and simply shook her head reassuringly. Maria rushed forward to unclasp her wife’s bra, barely waiting for the piece of clothing to slide off before taking a nipple into her teeth.

Natasha let her nuzzle against her chest for a while, her back arching involuntarily, before gently pushing her back, “It’s my turn.”

Maria gave her a slow nod, and the blonde promptly resumed her earlier task. Maria raised her hips, helping Natasha as she pulled down her pants, and she barely had time to brace herself before the blonde slipped a finger into her.

Natasha began moving, her pace slow – _tantalisingly slow –_ and Maria’s head dug into the mattress as the throes of ecstasy ravaged her. And this time, she bucked her hips eagerly – almost violently – against the blonde’s hand, making the woman laugh.

“Easy, easy, Maria,” Natasha coaxed gently, “We have all the time. I’m not going anywhere.”

The peace Maria felt at those words was an utter contrast to the shudders coursing through her body.

And before she could even form a reply, the Russian added another finger, and Maria’s hand flew to grasp Natasha’s shoulder. She continued to writhe in pleasure as the blonde quickened her movements, bringing her closer to the edge.

And, for the first time in nearly two years, when Maria came with her wife’s name on her lips, Natasha was right there to hear it.


	3. Dunes of Hope

####  **The Widow**

Natasha ran a finger over her wife’s bicep – just the way she used to, a lifetime ago – as they lied beside each other on the bed. They’d been lazing around for a few hours now, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Maria had been smiling for the better part, but Natasha noticed the slight frown now, and nudged her arm, “What are you thinking?”

The brunette sat up slowly, her hand reaching out to grab the spectacles that she’d set aside – more like thrown away haphazardly – during the sex. She placed them over her nose and then cleared her throat before facing Natasha.

“I, uh… I realise that you might be thinking I’m going to try to convince you to come back. Or to let me join you,” Maria said, “But I meant what I’d said earlier.”

“I’m not here to stay, so you don’t have to worry about running again,” Maria added, her voice just a little bitter, “I’ll be leaving soon.”

The brunette got off the bed and proceeded to wear her pants before she looked back at Natasha, “And you can keep the weapons. There’s also some cash in the bag, in case you need it, and if you –”

“Come with me.”

The words had slipped without Natasha’s volition.

Maria froze in her actions, her eyes widening with hope, and Natasha couldn’t decide whether to regret her slip-up. She knew she was being selfish, and she shouldn’t be asking the woman to just –

“Are you… are you sure?” Maria said, rushing to sit beside her on the bed, her hand inching to grab Natasha’s.

“Tell me, honestly,” Maria whispered, her eyes boring into Natasha’s, “Is this what you _want?_ Because if it isn’t, I promise I’ll walk away.”

Natasha could see the clench in Maria’s jaw, the staunch resolve clear on the woman’s face, and she knew Maria meant it; she’d leave, no matter how much it hurt her.

Natasha raised her hand to cup her wife’s cheek, stroking the point right where Maria’s glasses ended on her face, the bone sharper than she’d ever remembered it to be. 

“You’ll still be in pain, even if you do,” Natasha replied, her voice quiet, “I know you’ll keep worrying about me, either way. Might as well be with me while you worry.”

Maria gave a blinding smile, her features going slack with relief, “I… thank you,” she whispered, like _Natasha_ was the one doing _her_ a favour.

Natasha leaned forward to kiss her, and the brunette sighed contentedly against her lips. And once again, Natasha was overwhelmed by just how much she’d missed kissing Maria. Missed the affection she brazenly showered upon Natasha. Missed _Maria._

“Now,” Natasha said, pulling apart eventually, “I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t brought along any clothes.”

The brunette ducked her head, but Natasha continued, “So, what do you say, should we have a long-overdue date evening-slash-night where I take you shopping?”

“In the Moroccan desert?” Maria quipped, her eyes sparkling as she looked up.

And Natasha just had to roll her eyes.

“We’re not _in_ the desert, Hill,” she replied, “In case you haven’t realised by now – which you probably haven’t, considering you didn’t even bother to open the curtains – we’re actually in a _town_.”

“You should be glad that I didn’t open the curtains, Romanoff,” the brunette retorted, “Wouldn’t want to traumatise the neighbours while I queened you now, would we?”

“The glasses have _actually_ made you smarter,” Natasha said, her brows raised in mock-surprise, “And here I thought they were just for the looks.”

“ _Please,”_ Maria scoffed adorably, “I look like a total dork.”

“Hey, no stress, Hill. Chicks actually dig that,” Natasha replied playfully, “Plus, you forget that you _are_ a dork.”

Maria opened her mouth to reply, but Natasha rushed forward and kissed her with a loud smack, “But you’re _my_ dork.”

* * *

“You’ve lost weight.”

Natasha watched her wife as she said the words, but Maria’s steps didn’t falter.

The sun had long set by the time they were done getting clothes and supplies for the both of them, and they’d been walking across the town, looking for a place to grab dinner.

Maria simply shot her a lopsided grin, “Yeah, well, what can I say. I’ve got a wife who loves stressing me out.”

“ _But_ –” the brunette added, before Natasha could even feel the guilt, “– she only does that because she wants to protect me.”

Natasha stopped in her tracks, making Maria stop too. She badly wanted to hold her or kiss her or just… _touch_ her, but they were still in public.

“I hurt you a lot, didn’t I?” Natasha mumbled, lowering her head, “When I left…?”

Maria sighed heavily, making Natasha look up again. The brunette’s hand came forward and she adjusted the scarf over Natasha’s head, and then she slid it down to give Natasha’s cheek a tender – but subtle, for anyone who was watching – caress before letting the arm fall beside her. Almost as if she sensed Natasha’s need for contact.

And Natasha knew that she _did_.

“I wasn’t hurt by the fact that you left,” Maria said, “I was mad at you for leaving without even speaking to me. Like you didn’t trust me to understand your position.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Natasha said instantly, “I knew you’d understand.”

The brunette was looking at her expectantly, and Natasha squared her shoulders. It was an easy confession that she was about to make, really, yet she somehow felt nervous.

“When I said that you’d make me stay, I didn’t mean _you’d_ make me stay,” Natasha revealed, “I meant that _I_ wouldn’t be able to go. I’d be far too tempted to be with you. To let you come with me.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you,” Natasha said softly, “I didn’t trust _myself_ to be that strong.”

“I get that, Natasha,” Maria replied, “And it’s fine. I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

“But, uh, I’ve got to say,” the brunette added, her lips curved up in a loving smile, “I liked you much better with red hair.”

“Oh, yeah?” Natasha replied, an eyebrow cocked up.

She came closer to Maria and rose on her toes. The brunette’s eyes darted around in warning, but Natasha kept coming forward, a foxy grin on her face. And before Maria could pull away, Natasha pouted her lips and blew onto the woman’s glasses, getting rid of some flecks of dust that had gathered on the lenses.

Natasha rested back on her heels, her hand brushing across Maria’s hips lightly, and she gave the taller woman’s waist a gentle – nearly imperceptible – but conspicuously sensuous squeeze.

“I could easily change your mind,” Natasha whispered, and then winked when Maria could barely hide her shiver.

The brunette eventually gathered herself and shook her head fondly, “Minx.”

And it the sweetest damn compliment anyone had ever given her.

####  **The Soldier**

Maria had just gotten started with the third chapter of her book when Natasha sauntered into the bedroom.

They’d come back from their little date-night, and they were getting ready for bed, both of them exhausted by the emotional and physical strain of the past two days.

Natasha walked towards her and stopped a few steps away, her head cocked to the side just a little as she read the blurb at the back of the book with interest.

“It’s the wife,” the blonde declared after a bit, strutting off towards the washroom, “Must’ve killed him for sleeping with her own sister.”

“Could also be the sister,” Maria countered, only a little bit annoyed at the woman for trying to guess the murderer, “Might’ve wanted all the property for herself.”

“Trust me, Hill,” Natasha replied, her head poking out of the door, “ _It’s the wife._ ”

Maria nearly laughed at the theatrical expression on her wife’s face. She snapped the book shut, already knowing that Natasha’s instincts were always right.

“Isn’t it _always_ the wife?” Maria teased, wiggling her eyebrows at the shorter woman, “Chasing trouble all the time?”

Natasha’s smile turned grim as she came and sat beside Maria. She took Maria’s hand into her own, entwining their fingers together and observing them intently.

“Those guys that attacked us yesterday…” the blonde began, “That’s one last job I have to take care of. Before I join Rogers and Wilson again.”

“We’ll be ending our little ‘exile,’” Natasha informed, “Banner’s been predicting that something is going on…”

Maria only nodded wordlessly at the rather vague explanation, waiting for the real doubt to come up. And soon enough, the shorter woman tugged at their enmeshed hands and then looked up.

“You…” Natasha said, her voice small, “You sure about joining me? You’re not obliged to help me out. And we might need a cover for you too.”

Maria flashed her a grin before getting up and walking towards the duffel bag. She rummaged through the smaller pocket, smiling to herself when she reached what she was searching for.

Maria tossed the navy-blue passport towards the blonde, “How do you feel about being married to a Canadian?”

Natasha caught the passport and eyed it for a while before glancing back at her. And Maria could see the awe on the woman’s face.

“Of course, you’d be married to me, not _Mary Hendricks,_ ” Maria said, a smug grin on her face as she announced her fake name.

“You were so sure I’d let you come with me?” Natasha asked, her voice a little breathless as she leafed through the passport.

“Not sure,” Maria replied softly, “Just hopeful. That you’d change your mind.”

Natasha gave her a breath-taking smile, the one that made her entire face glow with its brilliance, and Maria’s heart nearly stopped at the familiar sight from months ago.

But before she could return it, the blonde’s features suddenly tensed, like she was remembering something.

“I, uh… there’s one other thing that I forgot to tell you,” Natasha began, her voice nervous, “I really should have mentioned it before.”

The woman’s worried expression instantly filled Maria with a sense of foreboding. The thought of the new mess Natasha might be caught in made her panic all over again, and Maria rushed to sit beside the blonde on the bed.

The shorter woman ducked her head, her hands gripping each other in apprehension. Maria held her chin and tipped it upwards: _tell me._

“I…” Natasha said, her gaze locking with Maria’s, “I love you.”

And Maria all but sagged with relief, her pulse still ringing in her ears at the little trick her wife had pulled. She huffed in mock-anger, “You’re –”

“Incorrigible?” Natasha supplied.

“A damned smartass,” Maria exhaled, a fond smile on her lips.

And the blonde cupped her hand behind Maria's head and drew her in for a slow, passionate kiss, smiling into her mouth.

Maria broke apart suddenly, “By the way, you _did_ mention that yesterday. When we –”

“Shut up and kiss me, _Hendricks_ ,” Natasha cut her off, pulling her closer and covering her lips with hers once again.

“So, tell me,” Natasha hummed, “What is it that Mary Hendricks does for a living?”

“Oh, she’s quite boring,” Maria replied, grinning against her wife’s lips, “Just an average software engineer.”

Natasha pulled back, her hands sliding down to rest on Maria’s collar. She tugged it, bringing them impossibly closer, and after many, _many_ months, Maria found herself staring at the brightest pair of emeralds, the twinkle in them back again.

“Maria Hill,” Natasha whispered, an entrancing smile on her lips, “Undercover or not, you are _anything_ but average.”

The blonde leaned forward and captured Maria’s lips yet again, her hand back on Maria’s cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“Just so you know,” Maria mumbled in between kisses, “I love you too.”

The shorter woman didn’t respond for the longest time, choosing to simply continue kissing her. And just when Maria thought she’d _finally_ gotten the last word, Natasha pulled back, a devious-yet-somehow-endearing smirk on her lips.

“I know.”

* * *

Natasha slid under the covers beside Maria, and Maria turned to look at her. The woman had settled almost at the edge of the bed, putting a significant distance between them.

“Why’re you so far?” Maria hummed, her voice ringing with fatigue.

Natasha simply grinned at her, “We’re both injured,” she said, “And you know I get handsy when I sleep.”

“Yeah, you do,” Maria smiled back, touched by her concern, “But you’re also going to fall off the bed if you don’t move in.”

Natasha scoffed audibly, “But I –”

“Just… come here,” Maria breathed, putting out her good arm for the blonde.

Natasha scrutinised the outstretched hand for a while, as if contemplating exactly which way to push it aside. But she sighed eventually and scooted closer, resting her head on Maria’s shoulder. Maria’s hand reflexively curled around her wife, her thumb rubbing circles on the woman’s arm.

“So, tell me,” Maria said, “How does it go from here? What kind of trouble can I expect to run into, in the next few days?”

Natasha chuckled and then huffed petulantly, “I know I’ve kind of made it seem so myself, but I’m not actually _looking_ for trouble.”

“I know,” Maria replied, her voice soft, “Trouble just has a way of finding _you._ ”

Natasha looked up to meet her gaze, and Maria smiled fondly, “Tell me, though, what’s the plan?”

“Well, the plan is to run. To be on the move,” Natasha answered, “If those guys find us again, we fight back.”

“We _do_ make a good team,” the blonde added, a lopsided grin on her lips.

“Not nearly as good as you and Barton, though,” Maria nudged her arm teasingly, “Or the rest of the Avengers, really.”

Natasha snorted at that, “That’s because half the time, we’re just trying to show-off our moves and one-up each other.”

“ _Right,”_ Maria mocked playfully, “And you don’t need to show-off in front of me…?”

Natasha looked up at her, her eyes hooded, and bit her lip suggestively, “You, Hill, are already aware of _all_ my moves.”

They laughed for a bit before Natasha sighed, her expression serious once again. She dropped her gaze, her hand coming up to rest on Maria’s abdomen, her finger tracing the lowest rib over the shirt.

“We’ll fight back, Maria, if they attack,” the blonde reiterated, “But I’m not sure I want to actively hunt down those people.”

“That’s just going to end up making more enemies,” Natasha exhaled tiredly, “And I already have enough of those.”

Maria could read the stress on her wife’s face, and she quickly brushed her lips across Natasha’s forehead.

“It couldn’t be so bad,” Maria said, trying to lift the blonde’s spirit, “I’m guessing that we’ll be travelling a lot, and it could be like that honeymoon we never got to have.”

Natasha laughed heartily, the tinkling sound sending pleasant tremors down Maria’s bones. The blonde craned her neck and Maria met her halfway, kissing her gently.

“Yeah, it’s going to be an adventure,” Natasha murmured after a bit, her eyelids already drooping, “So you better get your fine ass ready for this ride.”

Maria chuckled softly, her breath ruffling Natasha’s bangs. She’d never get enough of her wife’s wit, even when the woman was right on the precipice of falling asleep.

Maria watched fondly as the blonde rubbed slow circles on her midsection, the touch intimate despite the shirt in between. She kept watching until Natasha’s hands went still, and she could feel the woman’s steady breaths on her neck.

Maria was obviously anxious about what was going to come in the future. But at the same time, she was at peace. Because she was with Natasha. They’d face whatever was in store for them. And they’d do it the way they always had.

Together.

_Fin._


End file.
